Faking it
by allthingsdarkx
Summary: AU: Kurt Weller, a successful business man with a tarnished reputation must prove that he is worthy enough to snag the biggest role of the his entire career but this is only possible with a woman by his side. The only problem is Kurt Weller is not capable of love. Will it take the right woman to change his perspective or is he lost forever?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I had this sitting around for awhile but I wasn't sure about posting it. I'm still not sure about posting it but here it is anyway...**

* * *

Kurt surveyed his office. It was everything his father had dreamed he would achieve: ostentatious, reassuringly expensive, and in the most exclusive part of the city.

He had perfected the art of argument in legalistic language and commanded an exorbitant fee. He wasn't married, no children and drove an exotic car.

He had an executive home with so much square footage he needed to hire several maids to clean it.

His chef popped in three times a week to make the fine meals; the rest of the time he ate out. His problem now was that buying the best of everything no longer gave him joy. He'd tried having mistresses, and that was still fun, but it wasn't enough. The only way out of his slump was to do something radical and he wasn't into hard drugs. Many years ago a young friend of his had gone over to a non profit, specializing in lobbying for legislation that increased peoples rights and freedoms rather than taking them away. Perhaps through reinventing himself he could save himself.

"Kurt," his lawyer and good friend, Roman Kruger, greeted striding through his front door. His head high and his briefcase tucked firmly under his left arm.

"How's it going?" He asked, taking a seat in the lazy boy couch to the far end of the luxurious living room.

Kurt spared him a glance but immediately returned his attention back to the cluster of papers stacked in front of him.

With a glass of bourbon in hand, he finally turned his body to his right hand man and savior.

His hand tighten around the glass so hard it was a surprise it didn't shatter.

"That should've been mine."

Roman shrugged and got up to pour himself a drink. He needed some kind of stability before Kurt exploded.

"I worked my ass off. How the hell was Gibson favored for the role and I wasn't?" He asked, his voice slightly rising.

Roman waved his hand around. "Kurt, calm do—"

He slammed his hand on the table. "He ripped me off!" He screamed, not caring if he once again attracted the attention of his nosy neighbours.

Roman stood in complete silence for a few minutes before making his way to the refrigerator. It stood like a great silver monolith in the kitchen.

"What do you have to eat here?" Roman asked cheerfully, completing ignoring the fact that Kurt was beet red in the face.

Kurt stood up so fast his chair toppled back, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Roman raised an eyebrow at him, "you're still an actor with a reputation to uphold. You can't be lashing out like this," he said sternly, shaking his head.

"To act I become the part, not another version of myself, but truly live it as a separate person. It's the only way to be authentic, don't you think? I feel their emotions, work through their problems, always keeping in mind the limitations of their perspective. I ride with the character on their quest for joy and redemption, always rooting for their victory. That's the only way I know how to give a sincere performance. How can they not give me what could possibly be the biggest role of my entire career?"

Kurt's anger was justified to an extend. He was, no denying, a brilliant actor but he mostly excelled in action, horror and crime films. Those were his specialities. The film in question is one of the most sappiest tragedy to ever been written; The remake of Romeo and Juliet. "No offense or anything, boss but you're not exactly lover boy material. They need someone who has loved, felt love and can easily profess what they feel not merely just what they read. Romeo was a love sick idiot who fell in love way too fast. The kid was what? Thirteen? He should've been playing video games and getting dirty not killing himself over some girl business," Roman ranted, taking a long drink of his martini mix.

Kurt rubbed his hand violently through his tousled brown hair and groaned loudly.

"Find me a woman then. If I'm around one long enough I can pretend to know what the hell this love business is about so I can snag this role"

"Have you heard nothing?" Roman asked in clear annoyance.

"You can't just pluck a rather woman. You must fall in love, you idiot. God, sometimes you're worst than my sister. She's older but she can be stubborn as hell when she wanted to. You two would make quite the pair."

And suddenly it were as if Kurt's brain had been reprogrammed over night, overridden. It was as if all his previous interests had been deleted and replaced with the image of an unknown face and the voice of an angel.

"You have a sister?" He asked slowly, looking over his shoulder to where his lawyer stood with a firm look on his face. "Yes, my older sister. No, she isn't interested. I've seen what you do with women and even though my sister can beat your ass down I'd rather you stay the hell away from her," Roman rushed out in basically one breath.

Roman has always been very protective of his older sister. She was his light in the darkest places and his shield against the cruelty of the world. They were both forced to grow up way too fast but his sister always made sure he still had time for a normal childhood while she did all of the work and took all of the beatings, he frolicked about; oblivious to every misfortune happening around him —oblivious because his sister kept him away from that. The orphanage was hell but Roman didn't see the worst of it. Being older, his sister was placed on an entirely different floor so he knew nothing of what she had to endure. She would never burden him with such ugly memories. It was safer if he went about his entire life believing everything he was taught and thought he knew.

Kurt nodded, turned on his heels and walked out of the living room, into the kitchen.

His chef, Robert, was busily working on some new invention. Robert wasn't a typical chef in that he was skinny, surprisingly so. Yet in other ways he was perfectly typical. His opinion was the right one, always, no one else could hold a valid point of view if it wasn't consistent with his own. He prowled the kitchen like a caricature of himself, the eyes popping more everyday and his mouth becoming thinner, tighter. He only ever smiled when he tasted his own food, for everyone else he muttered under his breath "garbage, bland..."

"Evening sir and sir" he greeted as Kurt and Roman entered the kitchen. For a kitchen that should've been a mess during the preparation of meals, the kitchen was absolutely spotless. You could clearly see yourself in the utensils and on the floor.

Robert picked up the chopping knife and cut the vegetables into perfect matchsticks in the time it took most people just peel the carrots. Every motion was precise from intense repetition and he prided himself on the machine like perfection of his shapes. Everything was even, uniform, perfect.

"How long until the feast, Rob?" Kurt asked, stepping closer to inspect the meal.

"With all due respect, sir, when I'm here this is my kitchen. You do not overstep your boundaries and you will certainly not peer into my pot. Now please." Robert spoke clearly and with his head held high.

Kurt raised his arms in defense and backed away slowly. Rob kept his eyes on him as he moved backwards. When he had maintained enough distance Rob smiled tightly and returned back to his cooking.

"Psycho chef," Roman muttered, when Kurt was close enough.

He nodded and strode back into his office, slamming the door behind him. Roman lets out an exasperated breath and downs the rest of his drink before motioning that Kurt should take a seat. He did.

"I want another job— a better one.

That's what you do. Find me one."

Roman laughed dryly, setting down his glass.

"We've had this discussion already. With your credentials, I can get you any job you want. This one? of course not."

"They'd be fucking lucky to have me. My portfolio speaks for itself."

Roman cleared his throat, tapping his glass with his perfect fingernail. "As does your personality," he says sharply.

Jonathan Gibbers was a family man. He valued family, respect and love. There was no way that he'd allow a well known womanizer and absolute asshole, such as Kurt Weller, into his business. It was Romeo & Juliet for God's sake.

Roman stretched his long legs out, looking at ease. He appeared to not be as worked up about Kurt's 'dilemma'.

"Didn't Llys Williams offer you a role in his new upcoming action film? Just accept the role and go on with your merry life. That's the kind of role you're good at. Love? You're not capable."

It wasn't that Kurt Weller was a cruel man per se, he just didn't give a damn about what anyone thought. He was blunt. Whatever he wanted from you he just told you straight, he didn't try to sugar coat it or bargain. And after only minutes of a conversation the annoyance of having to converse showed on his face, even if he'd initiated it. His mouth was set in a permanent scowl and offering help even when it was obviously needed was not in his nature. His one redeeming feature was that he could act his ass off, he worked hard and he made whomever he worked for alot of money.

"No amount of expensive equipment can make up for the lack of plot. The movie starts like a tortoise and ends like road kill," Kurt argued.

"It's horrible and I only take part in greatness."

Roman scratched the back of his neck nervously. His sister had hit rock bottom after the death of Oscar, her high school sweetheart turned fiancé and she refused to take even a single dime from Roman. He would've given it all up for her in the blink of an eye considering she was the one who got him to where he was today. She worked three jobs, day in and day out to provide for him. She got two hours of sleep every night because after college she'd help Roman with his homework, she'd help him study for his exams which resulted in her barely graduating college but she never complained. Their foster mother, Shepherd provided for them but being Army based she was hardly ever around and his sister felt awful taking her money so she worked hard for her own.

He owed her everything and so much more.

"How much are you offering said woman and how long would you need her for?"

* * *

He drew his lower lip between his teeth and cocked his head to side.

"This is your sister?" He inquired, beaming at Roman.

"You're beautiful," he said offering his open palm to this woman who was supposed to act as his girlfriend for a year.

She hadn't bothered to put a face to Kurt Weller. His reputation said far more than he needed to. She didn't search him up on the internet like a horny sixteen year old. She simply didn't care.

But this man standing before her was sex on legs she would've let herself fall into his arms anytime until he opened his mouth, of course. That voice. She'd know that voice anywhere.

It was unavoidable. The voice instantly brought up visions of morning sex and shower sex, public sex, and sheet-clawing, multiple-orgasm, ecstatically screaming sex. Kurt Weller, the world's biggest asshole.

He had a voice that would make a nun drop to her knees and pray for forgiveness for her sinful thoughts.

She gripped his hand firmly and raised an eyebrow at him. He sent her one of his panty dropping smiles, looking her up and down.

"Remi," was her simple response as she pulled her hand from his tight hold.

Kurt Weller was surly and crass. It had been said that he hardly ever agreed to interview because he simply didn't have the time or if he ever did it was always one liners; he had always seen himself better than every other actor. He was paid atleast double the amount of the leading actors simply because he was Kurt Weller.

Remi's scrunched up expression said she simply didn't see the appeal.

"So Remi-Jane.." Roman said trailing off, his eyes darted from between his sister and his boss as he picked at his nails nervously.

She tugged on his hand gently and he trailed behind her once they were out of earshot she turned to him and punched him right in the chest

"Kurt Weller?!" She hissed, glaring daggers at her younger brother. "Are you really such an idiot?"

"Please. Please, you just have to pretend for a year. He's paying you three million dollars for the year. Please Remi."

She thought long and hard.

Well... I could use the money, she thought to herself. My apartment is a major shit hole. No matter how much Roman begged and tried to force his money on her she wouldn't take it. She couldn't.

"Fine. One year"." She scrubbed her hands down her face and wrapped them around the back of her neck, popping her knuckles.

Roman nodded happily and pulled her in for a hug.

"Oh and please don't fall for him. Please don't fuck him," Roman moaned looking slightly disgusted for even uttering those words to his sister.

Her face scrunched up. Not from the dismissal, but from the warning. The awareness.

After the death of her fiancé just two years ago she had no intention of crawling into bed with anyone. Kurt Weller was a dick and he could keep his dick in his pants because she really wasn't interested in that kind of blow up.

Five minutes later, the duo joined Kurt back in the living room.

"One year," Remi repeated, taking the contract from his cold, evil hands and scrawled her signature across it quickly.

Roman went over the rules and what was expected when and where to make the whole sham believable. The kid had been in one relationship and suddenly he was an expert. He did make some valid points not that she would ever tell him that. She wouldn't risk feeding his already inflated ego.

"You should probably post a picture of the two to your 10 Million followers," Roman said tapping his chin and looking thoughtful. "Not her face though," he added quickly.

"Maybe interlaced fingers or something sappy like that," Remi injected, earning a flirtatious smile from Kurt.

Ugh. The man was disgusting.

"Then maybe take a walk somewhere. Wear a hat; those really large ones, so your face won't be recognized."

"Why have a girlfriend if I can't show her off?" Kurt questioned seriously.

"Ah. That's for later. We're just showing people for now, that you have a woman you're serious enough about to take pictures with."

 _Fake it til you make it right?_

* * *

"Your girlfriend, sir?" Robert, whom I learned was his chef, asked looking at me with a soft smile.

He was a fairly handsome man with brown skin and tight, black curls and according to Kurt, the only best thing in his life. Now that was sad.

The left side of Kurt's faint lip tugged upwards creating a sinister smirk on his god like face; casting a spell of lust to eyes that dare look his way.

"My girlfriend," he repeated, placing his hand on my lower back and made small circles around my spine. I tried to stay still. I really did but the proximity was so uncomfortable that I faked a sneeze —an actual sneeze to get away from him.

"Welcome miss," Robert said, offering me his hand, completely ignoring the fact that I just sneezed to get away from Satan himself.

The introduction ended as quickly as it began but I was thankful for not having to pretend any longer, that I was so much in love with that vile man.

"This is the bathroom," Kurt explained as he stopped in front of a wooden door, holding it open for me he nodded towards the space motioning that I should enter.

The bathroom had an earthy feel. The walls were large format tiles of white honed travertine and the floor was made of dull brown tiles. The vanities were of a dark wood and the counters were a brilliant white quartz. There was no bath but instead a huge walk in shower with two shower heads.

We had been going over alot of boundaries that should be maintained during our year together.

I slept in the guest at all times unless someone of importance was coming over and according to him that happened quite alot.

It probably didn't and he just wanted me in his bed but I let him tell his lies if that made him feel better.

He was to keep his hands to himself when we were alone. No one except Roman and I was to know that this was a ruse. To his chef, Robert, I was his girlfriend and he was finally ready to move our relationship to the next level —moving me in.

"Is everything okay? Is the house alright?"

Is the house alright? He's joking right? This was literally a castle and I wasn't about to let him know that I appreciated his taste.

If he had every known failure in his life, it didn't show. Everything from the way he held himself, to the way he spoke, to that look of unassailable confidence in his eye said he could do anything he set his mind to. Except get the role of Romeo, of course.

"The walls are a bit bland but I'll survive," I said pretending the look at my nails.

I saw him raise an eyebrow at the corner of my eye but managed to keep a straight face.

"This isn't your house. I like my walls. Join me in the living room when you're tidied up."

Before I even had the chance to reply he walked out and slammed the door behind him.

 _What a charmer.._

Twenty minutes later, I joined him in the living room, like he requested.

The room is like a perfect magazine cover. I'm afraid to sit in case I wrinkle the fabric or stain it with something I don't even know is on my pants. The couch is cream but inlaid with a fine green silk; leaves embroidered so delicately that they might have landed there in spring and just sunk in, but I know they took hundreds of hours to sew. The white curtains are linen, the kind of white that is untouched by hands and devoid of dust. A cursory look to the right shows me the almost hidden cords that are used to open and close them. There is a huge flat screen television, a few bookshelves and chairs arranged around the bespoke fireplace which leaps with a gas flame. The photographs are black and white, not casual family snaps, but arranged to look like such by a professional.

The floor is a high polished wood, dark and free of either dust or clutter.

The room is uncomfortably large. It reminds me of a hotel foyer, not just in the space but in the artwork too. I scan for a personal touch, something that doesn't suggest a hired designer chose it. Nothing.

The room gives away his bachelorhood. Everything is functional.

There is room in here for dozens of children, though I doubt even one would be welcome. It is a perfect place, but cold in its tranquility. The soft jazz just audible as background noise, and at the same volume in every room, somehow makes it even less personal. I feel like I just stepped into the mall. There are no personal photographs, like the place is staged for sale. It isn't though.

Kurt sat comfortably in one of the couches with a pair of glasses resting gently on the bridge on his nose, his face buried in a book and he had a small smile etched onto his face. He almost looked human.

"You're here. Good," he says with his face still buried in the book but that soft small was now a deep frown as he closed the door gently, as if it were the most fragile thing.

"Sit." His voice was suddenly cold and hard and I automatically wondered if I already messed up my chances of earning this well needed money.

I complied, forcing myself to sit comfortably. I couldn't.

"We have to do this picture business," he said, finally looking over at me. Behind those glasses his eyes were almost translucent, glossy, like the palest blue glass, too soft to be turquoise, too bright to be baby blue.

I nodded numbly and shifted closer to his side of the couch and took his phone from his tight hold. He stiffen for a bit but easily relaxed and flashed me his signature smirk.

"Do you own a cowboy hat?" I asked when we were close enough.

Kurt glances upward, his mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. His eyes are fixed on mine as if he was lost in a memory.

"Look away," I mutter self consciously.

He blinks, refocuses, "a cowboy hat?" I smile and nod.

He hesitates a bit but gets up and heads back to his room. I couldn't place what it was about a cowboy hat that made him so jittery but it must have been really close and personal to stun Kurt Weller.

"The only one I own," his glasses are now replaced for his contact lenses and his usually styled hair was now tousled from him running his fingers through it countless times.

The cowboy hat was barely brown anymore and was old and worn out. There was an engraving at the side that I couldn't make out but this wasn't about me figuring him out. This was about taking the damn picture so I could finally go to bed.

"Come here," I said, patting the spot next to me. He sits quickly and I place the hat up while he looks at me confused.

I shifted until our knees were touching and brought my face closer to his. His eyes fluttered shut for a minute but as I got closer he looked me right in the eye with a confused look before he could get a word out I brushed my fingers against his jaw and snapped the picture.

"Perfect"

He blinks. "What was the cowboy hat for?"

"I listened to some of your interviews before I joined you here," I explained, suddenly feeling shy. "You said you despised cowboy hats so what better way to sell this than for you to dig up something you hate because the woman you love loves it?" My voice flattered when I uttered the word 'love' not because I was uncomfortable in any way but because I never thought I'd say the word for as long as I lived.

He nodded understandably, still looking slightly confused.

"Well then," he said, dragging himself up from where he sat.

"Let's go to bed then"

"Goodnight"

* * *

 **Reviews are greatly appreciated :)**


	2. Chapter 2

I tossed and turned for several hours trying to find the perfect spot but failed miserably. A lingering haze of sleep sat somewhere at the back of my head but it was just too far to reach, floating in a pool of memories. Icy discomfort blossomed in my chest and made it extremely difficult to breathe. Trying to make myself fall into a deep slumber, I took as many breaths as I could but many just caught in my throat like an icy wind had blown down there and managed to freeze the air solid. At that very moment I knew it was going to be a long night. Pulling the duvet under my chin, I rolled to the darker side of the room. The blinds had shut out most of the moonlight but still on the opposite wall there were rectangles of light projecting from the gaps. I watched as they turned from the natural light to the artificial yellow from the streetlights. I tossed from one side to the other, the bed that had been so carefully made was now a tangle of covers.

For spells, I would close my eyes and concentrated on slowing my breathing, rhythmically. I had, on many occasions, considered the sleeping pills I had seen before in Kurt's cabinet. They worked well alright, but the last time I had been groggy all day and my mouth tasted like metal.

The night wore on, thoughts tumbled through my mind in rapid succession.

Problems I had already solved reemerged for another examination. Things I mustn't forget for the next day nagged at me. After a tortured eternity the room began to get lighter and the birds chirped, I threw back the covers with a sigh and stumbled out.

 _Sleepless_.

I made my way over to the full length mirror, lolling my head from side to side, examining the heavy dark bags under my eyes.

"Atleast these bags are designer," I muttered quietly.

A sharp rap on the door caused me to almost trip over her own feet.

"Madam? It's Robert."

With a frustrated sigh, I opened the door revealing Kurt's chef. I had expected his usual scowl but none came. Instead he offers a kind smile.

"Uhh.. Good morning?"

"Mr. Weller requests your presence in the kitchen."

With that being said, he bowed respectfully and continued in the opposite direction.

"His royal highness awaits," I grumbled sarcastically even doing a little curtsy, throwing the comfortable robe off my shoulders then stripping down to naught before walking over to the built in bathroom.

I stepped into the shower, toes flinching as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. My mind was in shreds. I turned the dial, releasing thousands of lukewarm drops, darkening my hair and trickling down my back. My eyes fell close over and over, each time showing me the images of the life I had before all of this like photographs.

The water pours down, it drips by my side, as my mind fades into dullness and everything is a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calms me; it takes my mind of things. All the things I honestly don't care about. It's the water. My mind swirls, and it's like I'm standing under an everlasting waterfall. Ever so beautiful, but it can never last, I know that now.

Shepherd would have a field day with my newest occupation. I felt like Julia Roberts in _Pretty Woman_ , you know except for the whole prostitute thing but I did have a handsome man who was willing to pay me big bucks to save his career. I should feel a little better about the situation considering what he's paying could change my life around for the better but I don't.. Instead I just feel _lost_.

Sighing, I continued my bath, washing my skin lightly. After my shower, I pick up the white robe that was quickly becoming my most favourite thing in the entire house and wrapped it loosely around my body. I walked over to the closet provided and noticed there was nothing there except a white T-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

I made a mental note to stop by at my apartment before snagging the only clothing there, it's not like I could walk around in my birthday suit all day.

My phone chirped in the distance notifying me of a new message. I walked over and swipe across the screen revealing 23 messages. Most of which was from my brother, being his usual annoying self and the most recent from Shepherd.

 **Shepherd**

 **Roman talked to me about your new 'job'. Call me ASAP.**

 _Of course he did. The kid was such a blabber mouth._

Before I talk myself out of it I quickly punched in her number. It rang three times before she picked up.

"Hi mom," I said weakly. We usually never called her mom except for when we were in serious trouble and I had a feeling that I was in way more trouble than I could ever imagine. "Don't 'mom' me. What is this I hear you're doing? Selling yourself to that ignorant young man. Sweetheart, he's so crass."

I knew better than to interrupt her when she was upset. I might have been the dirty thirty but she would still knock me down if I got too crazy. Which I had learned the hard way when I was just sixteen years old ever since I never interrupted her or tried to talk higher than she did.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"He's not that bad."

She snorted, unconvinced.

Hell, I would've snorted too if someone had told me three years ago that I'd be living in Kurt's Weller's house as his girlfriend. He wasn't bad. He was so much worse.

"Okay. Maybe he's a bit of an hardass but I can handle it. Trust me."

Her tone softened then. "It's not that I don't trust _you_. I don't trust _him_ and everything that he stands for. It was enough having Roman working for him but now my daughter is with him —"

"We aren't actually together." I eased gently.

"It's a business transaction. I get paid for my service," I explained, my voice dropping to a whisper.

She grew quiet then. For sure I thought she had enough of me and just hung up before the rustling of paper proved otherwise.

"Just be careful, sweetheart," she said, voice softening a little.

I promised that I would and we said our goodbyes. I knew she wasn't exactly happy about my decision but my mother would never try to dictate my life. She always told us from very young that we have to experience things for ourselves in order to grow. She said we shouldn't expect her to baby us and after sometime we didn't. It's not that she wasn't a good mother. She just wasn't around as much during our teenage years so basically we raised ourselves.

 _I could do this. I'm strong enough to deal with whatever he threw my way,_ I thought quietly as I made my way over to the kitchen.

* * *

"Let me get this straight, you're paying me three million dollars because you need the role of Romeo in Shakespeare's classic? Isn't Romeo supposed to be younger?"

"How old do you think I am?" Kurt said, adjusting his tie for what seemed like the thousandth time. Roman had suggested that we spent all of our free time together if we planned to fool hopefully the entire world. If we didn't believe we were a couple, no one else would and _I_ definitely didn't believe it.

"You're not thirteen that's for sure."

"Alright guys, enough of this bickering. We've got to get ready for the photoshoot so if you'd hurry it up —"

"A photoshoot? You're not serious are you?"

Roman brought his steaming hot cup of coffee to his lips, blowing on the liquid before taking a sip.

"Not necessarily. We'll just need to take some quote on quote off guard pictures while you two are... intimate. Not butt naked, groping on each other intimate just holding hands, whispering in each other's ear. The usual cutesy stuff."

"That's not cute. That's disgusting. I'd much rather the butt naked business," I joke with a raise of my perfectly arched eyebrow.

Kurt rolled his eyes, those blue darts — sharp yet still so full of emotion.

Sighing, I picked up one of the magazines Robert had brought when he served breakfast and began flipping through them.

"I need to go back to my apartment —"

Roman opened his mouth to intervene but I cut him off quickly with a wave of my hand, "I need my clothes. I can't walk around with sweats all day, especially not since Kurt Weller, the billionaire, is now the love of my life. The paparazzis would go ham with that one."

Kurt glanced at me, looking uncharacteristically nervous. I took a moment to study him as he gathered his thoughts. He was ridiculously handsome. Well over six feet tall, his shoulders were broad, his waist trim.

He was clean shaven most of the time; although on occasion, like today, his jaw bore a day or two growth, which highlighted his strong profile.

"I'll buy you new clothes," he spoke with such an ease I'd never heard before. I looked over at him, my brows crashing into each other.

"With all due respect, I want to wear what I own."

He regarded me with a strange look on his face before agreeing to my demands. I had expected his ire. For him to sweep his hand in the air, and demand that I was to follow his rules since he was paying for my service so imagine how shocked I was when he only shrugged.

"Okay. I'll let my sister go with you to your apartment. I think it would be wise if you bonded with her and my nephew. It would be more believable if my family knew you existed before the press did."

I was beyond puzzled, nerves taut, and my stomach in knots. It was one thing pretending to be Kurt's girlfriend to his chef but it was an entirely different thing playing this role with his sister — the person who has known him all his life.

"There's no way. I mean…she's your sister. She knows you —"

"Hey, breathe. It's okay."

I inhaled a calming breath and straightened my shoulders.

"Sarah doesn't bite," he assured with an amused smile. "Sawyer might though."

I grimaced. "I'm sure he will."

* * *

"This is your girlfriend?" Sarah asked, glancing over at her brother with an unreadable expression. I'd never seen him look so uncomfortable. He gripped the back of his neck, clearing his throat.

"Remi, this is Sarah, my little sister and this little nugget," he motioned to the little curly haired boy, tucked away at Sarah's side, "is Sawyer. Sarah, Remi. My girlfriend."

"Hey there," I said awkwardly stretching my palm to the blonde woman, who just looked at it before turning to her brother with a smirk.

"I doubt it. She's so skinny."

"I beg your pardon?"

Kurt shot me a look of warning then bent down to his nephew's height.

"Hey bud, why don't you go to the game room while mom and I have a little chat?"

Sawyer looked at me, a little smile tugging at his lips. "Nice to meet you. You're pretty."

Before I could say anything else Kurt pushed him away gently, then turned to me, tucking a loose strand of hair from my eyes. "Give us a minute, okay?"

Knowing better than to argue with him at that point, I stepped away.

Upon leaving, I could hear Sarah's taunting remarks about how I obviously only wanted his money since I was dressed like a bum.

"Mom doesn't do well with people," Sawyer spoke up scaring the actual shit out of me.

"Weren't you headed to the game room?" I questioned breathlessly, pressing my palm over my racing heart.

He giggled, brushing his long curls out of his eyes. "I thought maybe you'd want to play too."

I laughed dryly before realizing the kid was actually serious.

"Uh.. I shouldn't. Your mom wouldn't approve."

He didn't say anything, dropping his gaze to his lap, his fingers playing with a loose thread on his shirt.

"Okay," he said softly, looking back up at me.

Hurt flashed across at his face. I sighed.

"One game, okay?"

He immediately perked up giving me a toothy grin.

"We'll have fun," he said eagerly pulling at my hand, dragging me along.

 _Atleast one of us will…_


	3. Chapter 3

Sarah's hand grips the black handled kettle on the stove. The air thick with the sweet scent of steamy beverage.

"Coffee?" She asks her older brother. He nods, loosening his tie before walking over to the island, grabbing a seat.

"Black."

Kurt has taken his coffee the same way ever since he was twenty years old. Black. Always black.

The woman tucks a loose strand of blonde hair behind her hair, a small smile ghosting her lips.

"Sometimes never change," she chuckles, handing him a cup.

He wraps his fingers around it, enjoying the heat that spreads through his hands.

He sips at the drink like it's a great luxury, his face is the same as when he takes a nip of his single malt, relaxed, savouring both the drink and the moment.

"Somethings don't," he agrees with a stiff nod of his head.

She joins him in the seat next to him and immediately dives into small chat. She talks about Sawyer, her son and his nephew.

"He's been asking about his father," Sarah sighs.

She takes a bigger sip and this time lets the warm liquid sit on her tongue for longer. There is a flavour there, once accustomed to the bitterness it steps forth shyly.

"Wasn't it an open donor? Can't he meet him if he wants to?"

Sarah sighs again, draining the last of her coffee in one gulp.

"The guy's married with seven of his own kids and that's just with his wife. God knows how much more he has out there."

Sarah has always been so afraid of relationships ever since her last boyfriend for almost eleven years eloped with a woman half her age. At the tender age of twenty eight, Sarah despised men and everything they stood for. All except her older brother, who took care of her when their woman was too drunk to even remember her own name.

He nods and takes a sip of his coffee, offering no ongoing conversation of his own, so she begins again.

"Don't look at me like that you're the one grabbing any skinny ass you can find. Where'd you even find her?"

Kurt Weller was a chauvinist and a womanizer, but he was also the most thorough actor she has ever met.

He had spent countless hours on his preparation. Every angle was covered, every detail had been examined and reexamined. He oozed an effortless charm, whenever he spoke he owned the room, holding everyone's rapt attention. It was impossible not to admire him, but that didn't mean she didn't know her own brother. They shared everything with each other ever since they were little children so him suddenly falling into a serious relationship without even mentioning this woman was a tad bit suspicious.

"She's Roman's older sister. He introduced us a few months ago and I like her," Kurt spoke carefully, without drama, his words had an air of finality to them and no matter how hard she railed against them, nothing would change his mind.

There was still such a stiffness, a formality to their interactions, which he knew had to change and fast if he was ever going to make Sarah believe that he felt strongly for the hazel eyed goddess. Problem was, he didn't know how to make it happen.

"Why didn't you tell me about her before?" Sarah pressed, gathering the empty cups in her hands.

"I'm in no mood to quibble with you, Sarah."

Even with her back to him she felt his frustration rolling around in waves.

The blonde woman sighs, turning to face her brother with a gentle smile.

"It's just… You haven't cared enough about anyone since —"

Her voice trails slowly, like her words are unwilling to take flight. There is a sadness in her eyes, the blue too glossy

"Don't finish that sentence. Don't bring her up."

Sarah shook her head understandably.

It had been years since they talked about her but that didn't mean that she left Kurt's mind, his heart, his whole being.

He couldn't escape it no matter how hard he tried, she follows him around like a black shadow that's on the inside, eating away at him.

"She's in the game room with Sawyer. Let's go say hi."

* * *

Sawyer looks up at me with his head askew on his little neck. His eyes are taking me in without moving and I know behind those blue iris's, calculations are going on.

It's odd to be regarded this way by a child half my height.

"What is it, Sawyer?" I asked gently, smiling at the child.

If I could get him to approve of me, his mother might. From what I've heard she doesn't seem to like me very much but I intended to change that.

She's Kurt's sister — _his family_. Her opinion matters.

He paused for what felt an eternity, making me slightly irritated waiting for his response.

"No one likes my uncle. Why do you like him?"

 _He's paying me big bucks_

There it goes again, my inner dialogue, but it's not my friend.

"He's… nice."

The little blonde boy scoffs, rolling his eyes at me.

 _Great, even a ten year old sees right through me._

"According to those articles mom's specifically asked me to not read but I do anyway, clearly states that he is, and I quote a 'pompous ass'. Everyone knows it."

He saw the shock register on my face, like my brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information before I could hide it and a small smile played on his lips.

Delicate blonde curls fell onto his brow, skin so pale it rendered him stark. He was angelic, yet his eyes bore a mischievous expression, a warning of the devil beneath.

"Sawyer, stop interrogating my lady."

Kurt's voice saved my response and I scrambled to my feet.

He appeared before me, in all his grandeur. His chiseled jaw lifted with a proud, pleasant smile.

His eyes a sparkling blue so much like the ocean.

His sister, Sarah, appears at the door, looking like there's a thousand other places she'd rather be. I don't blame her.

I can tell just by the way she walks that she's guarded; her shoulders are hunched over as if hiding the treasure inside of her. Her footsteps are light as she slowly approaches, watching me suspiciously.

I smile at her, hoping to thaw some of her frost.

"Hi."

The blonde woman smiles back but it's almost sinister. It was a cheshire grin of sorts, the kind that was so wide it was more as if she wanted to eat me rather than say hello.

She gave me a once over and I felt as if all my insecurities were large across my face and there was nowhere to hide.

Her blonde hair was unruly; thrown back into a messy pony tail. Hair from the slightly layered cut wasn't included in the pony tail, but they perfectly framed her face.

"I apologise for being rude earlier. I'm Sarah, Kurt's sister. So what do you do?" She asked flopping down on the little bean chair. I could tell by her body language that she did not like me, and those flickering azure orbs confirmed my thoughts.

Kurt, noticing how thick the tension was, ushered a very reluctant Sawyer out of the room with a promise to raise his allowance by $20

"Uh.. I'm an …" I fumbled, slipping over my words. She intimidated me and she knew it.

A grin spread over Sarah's face, wide and open, showing her over-whitened teeth. In that moment her motives were laid bare; she was a mocker, one who enjoyed whatever torment she could inflict on others.

"She's lovely, Kurt. A real catch," she drawled, smiling up at him.


End file.
